They met where twilight kissed the trees,
Beneath the hush of turning leaves,
And spoke in turns like cautious thieves
Of weather, books, and dreams in code.
But something stirred beneath their ease—
A fluttering no silence slowed.
Each bore a charm none dared confess,
A burden sweet, a quiet ache,
For fear the spell their hearts did press
Would scatter should they truth awake.
They'd laugh, they'd pause, their eyes would flit,
And yet—no word, no hint of it.
Their stomachs twitched with trembling wings,
Unseen, unheard, yet loud and fleet—
The woman's danced in blushing rings,
The man's in loops of sapphire beat.
And both in dread did hold their breath,
For love, they thought, might mean love's death.
At last, when all small talk had passed,
When even dusk was slow to stay,
She said, *"This game can’t always last.
What hides in you hides too in me—
Shall we reveal, or run away?"*
He nodded once. "We lift. On three."
Their hands rose slow. A breath. A blink.
The cloth pulled back, the veil undone.
And there! A storm of blue and pink
Rose gently toward the dying sun.
Their flutterbyes, once locked within,
Now danced like children just begun.
Each wing found match, each heart stood still,
And not a word was said or planned.
They smiled as only dreamers will,
Two souls made young by trembling hands.
For what they feared was not to be—
They’d simply held the same bright key.
*